


Birthday Tradition

by iknowthismuchistrue



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Birthday, Happy Birthday Victor Nikiforov, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Russia, late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iknowthismuchistrue/pseuds/iknowthismuchistrue
Summary: Yuuri wakes up in the middle of the night on December 25th and realizes he still has so much to learn about Victor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place shortly after episode 12 (I'm not sure of the exact dates of the GPF in the anime, but lets pretend that the timeline was similar to the real life GPF). Also, this is my first fic ever, so I hope you like it!

It’s strange how quickly we adjust to a new normal.

That’s what Yuuri is thinking as he rolls out of an empty bed, groping for his glasses in the darkness. He’s not sure why he woke up, exactly—he can tell that it’s still ridiculously early, certainly not time to be awake—he only knows that he is alone, without a certain silver-haired Russian wrapped around him. Perhaps the lack of warmth roused him, but in truth he wonders if his body is just accustomed to Victor’s presence. Somehow, by some strange miracle, Victor has become his new normal.

  
The pitch-black of the room indicates the late hour, and a glance out the window reveals snow gently drifting down onto a sleeping St. Petersburg. Yuuri rummages for his phone. The sudden brightness is blinding at first—he quickly adjusts his brightness—and finally can read the time and date. It’s two in the morning, December 25th. Victor’s birthday.

  
Yuuri sits back onto the bed and gazes around him at Victor’s room. The room, like the rest of the apartment, is fashionable but sparse. Like something you might see in a magazine. Yuuri’s battered suitcase sits in the corner, looking out of place. He and Victor arrived in St. Petersburg only a couple days ago. Now that the GPF was over, they were more-or-less free to do as they wanted—or at least, they could take a break for a week or two. Since Victor had apparently no plans for his birthday, Yuuri had asked to see Victor’s home city, thinking his boyfriend might like to spend the special day in a familiar place after months of living overseas. Now that they were here, however, Yuuri worried if he had made the right decision. Victor was just as loving as ever, but Yuuri could sense something on his mind.

  
And now he had disappeared in the middle of the night.

  
Yuuri stands and pads quietly to the door. Soft voices reach his ears—the television? He steps out into the main living space to see Victor curled up on the couch, illuminated by the dim glow of the TV. He sits up when he sees Yuuri, a smile already on his face.

  
“Did I wake you?” He asks, offering Yuuri the spot next to him.  Yuuri shakes his head and sits, nestling into Victor’s side as he places his arm around him, and for a moment they are both quiet, watching the TV. Yuuri squints, trying to make sense of what’s going on. He can tell it’s an American Christmas program by the accents of the actors, but for some reason there is a very hairy, green man stomping around in a Santa suit. He turns to look at Victor instead. Victor’s crystal blue eyes meet his, and his lips quirk at Yuuri’s contemplative gaze. “What is it?”

  
“Well, I was just thinking that even though it’s your birthday, you looked kind of sad.”

  
Victor blinks. Then, “I’m much happier now that you’re here,” and he buries his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck, right where he knows the Japanese skater is horribly ticklish. Yuuri squawks and tries to wriggle away, but Victor’s muscled arm is like a vise around him. He can feel Victor’s laughter against his skin as he tries to control his undignified giggling.  
“I should have never told you about that spot,” Yuuri finally gasps.

  
Victor raises his head and purrs softly into his ear, “I would have found it anyway, Yuuri.”  Despite his best efforts, Yuuri can feel red warmth spreading across his cheeks. Victor chuckles. “I love it when you blush,” he murmurs, and lowers his head back down to rest on Yuuri’s shoulder.

  
When he has regained control of himself, Yuuri sighs, “What am I going to do with you?” Victor smiles but doesn’t answer. For a moment there is only the soft sound of the TV as each man is wrapped up in their own thoughts, until Yuuri speaks. “So what’s with the show?”

  
Victor is quiet, then says, “It’s sort of a birthday tradition of mine, I suppose.”

  
Yuuri is surprised. “You watch Christmas specials? I thought Russians didn’t really celebrate Christmas?”

  
“We do, although not on December 25th. We do it in January, and it’s much more quiet and religious,” Victor tells him. “But we watch a lot of foreign TV, so American Christmas specials are always on this time of year. I’ve done this since I was a kid.”

  
“You mean, you get up in the middle of the night to watch Christmas shows every year on your birthday? Why?”

  
Victor chuckles. “I guess it is a little strange.” He reaches for Yuuri’s hand, and gently spins the golden ring on his finger as he begins to speak. “My schedule was. . . pretty hectic, even when I was younger. I was always skating, always traveling for competitions and events, so my parents didn’t see me that much, especially when the government took an interest and started funding my training. Anyways, I spent a lot of birthdays alone.”

  
Yuuri shifts slightly, but before he can say anything Victor fixes him with a wry smile. “When I told you in Barcelona I didn’t make a big deal out of my birthday, I meant it. If Yakov let me have the day off, I’d sleep or play with Makkachin or something, and basically just try to relax. It isn’t as sad as it sounds,” he reassures Yuuri, whose eyes have gone wide.  
“But, what about your friends? Chris, the Russian team?”

  
Victor shakes his head. “All my friends are professional skaters, Yuuri,” he smiles. “They’re just as busy as I am. They would call me and wish me happy birthday, and maybe send me a present, and I was happy with that.”

  
Yuuri is stupefied. He tries to comprehend not spending his birthday surrounded by family, and simply cannot imagine it. Even when he was living in Detroit, Phichit had always made the day special by taking him out somewhere. He finally says, “That’s why you didn’t have any plans for today.”

  
Victor nods, then takes Yuuri into his arms, murmuring, “I would have been fine with anything, but I am very happy to be with you.” At this Yuuri hums happily, and leans back into the larger man’s chest. He is very warm—Yuuri discovered this soon after they began sleeping together. It was why Victor rarely wore more than briefs to bed—the man was better than any heater. Yuuri thinks it must be the Russian in him, built to survive the cold winters.

  
After a moment he says, “You still didn’t explain why you watch the Christmas programs, though.”

  
A pause. “That’s a little bit more embarrassing,” he mutters. Yuuri waits patiently, and Victor chuckles at the expectant look on his face. “You’re really going to make me say it, huh? Fine. I’ll have no secrets from you, my love,” he teases. Then he sighs. Quietly, he says, “I struggled with it, at first, being alone all the time. I always saw on TV, the birthday boy or birthday girl would have a big party or have this big adventure with their loved ones. I wanted that, too,” he admits. “But like I said, I was too busy to make a big fuss. But one year on my. . .thirteenth birthday, I think, I was having trouble sleeping, and I was alone in a hotel room for a competition. The loneliness was pretty bad, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I turned on the TV, and all the channels were showing Christmas specials, and for some reason it seemed so amazing to me, Yuuri, the fact that there seemed to be this big party going on, and everybody was happy and the decorations were so beautiful. So. . .I pretended that the whole world was throwing a party for my birthday.”  
Yuuri has sat up to look Victor in the face, but the man avoids his eyes. He laughs self-consciously. “I know, I know, how big can a person’s ego get, huh? But it helped, and now it’s just kind of a habit.”

  
“Victor.”

  
“Of course, now that I’m an adult I’m perfectly fine, and I just like the Christmas movies.”

  
“Victor.”

  
“It’s honestly so embarrassing, I can’t believe I’ve told you this—”

  
“Vitya, shut up,” Yuuri tells him. He twists, throwing his leg over Victor’s thighs so that he is straddling him. He places his hands on the sides of Victor’s beautiful face, which is tinged slightly with pink. It occurs to Yuuri how strange it is for Victor to be the embarrassed one—after all, the man practically oozes confidence, and seemingly delights in embarrassing Yuuri. He waits until Victor’s blue orbs meet Yuuri’s brown ones, and then he speaks slowly and resolvedly, each word a promise. “I will be here for every birthday. Always.”  
Victor looks stunned. Then his face melts into an expression so full of love, Yuuri feels a rush in his blood not unlike the bliss of finishing a perfect routine and he thinks, he’s addicted to this man, and he probably will be forever. Suddenly Yuuri is in Victor’s arms again, and when the Russian speaks his voice is slightly choked. “Always, huh? I’ll hold you to that promise, Yuuri.”

  
“Happy birthday,” Yuuri murmurs softly, and kisses the top of the silver head.


End file.
